Immeasurable Strength
by LauraMaeH94
Summary: Someone is out for revenge on the B.A.U. and target Prentiss when she is vulnerable. Will Emily survive the murderous wrath of this UNSUB? "There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power." - Washington Irving
1. Chapter 1

Strolling along in the moonlight, the brunette pulled her coat tighter around her body. The tracks from where tears had earlier marred her face were all but gone as the wind whipped around her legs. A shiver ran up her spine as the branches of the trees overhead danced and reached for her, like adoring fans would reach towards a celebrity. A hand on the small of her back pulled her back into the moment. She looked around at her friends and smiled. What an odd sight they must have been! A bunch of suit clad, gun tottering adults (some walking, some running), through a park in the thick of the night, giggling as they chased and subsequently tackled, or tickled, each other. She felt the hand leave her back as Derek Morgan pushed past her and pursued the squealing blonde that began sprinting at the very sight of him. She smiled; a weary grin. She wasn't really in the mood for laughs. It was one of those nights where she just wanted to be alone, so as not to spoil everyone else's fun. She seemed to be feeling that a lot lately.

A hand on her forearm caught her off guard. She jumped slightly, and had to consciously stop her hand from flying to her holstered weapon, as a warm face looked down upon her. He wasn't all that much taller than her but he still had an uncanny ability to make her feel small.

"Emily, are you okay?"

"Dave, I'm fine."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're fine and dandy and all of that crap. Let's just get that out of the way so we can start being honest. What do you think about that?"

"Rossi, I really am okay. I'm just, lost in thought I guess."

"You know that you can talk to me right? I mean, in confidence."

"Yeah I do. I don't think I'm ready to just yet though."

"Okay, fair enough. What can I do for you in the meantime?"

The slightly shorter agent looked up at him, about to tell him that he couldn't help at the moment, when she felt a sudden onslaught of tears beginning to escape her eyes. She couldn't believe what was happening and she most certainly didn't know why it was happening in the first place. She was just grateful that the rest of the team was out of sight.

David Rossi knew that Emily Prentiss had tear ducts; he just figured them to be out of commission. So when she began to cry, in the middle of a park, as darkness closed in on them, he wasn't quite sure what to do. So, he did the only thing he could think of. He hugged her. He pulled her close and just stood, with her in his arms. She didn't move, didn't put her arms around him, didn't shake. Instead, she just stood stock still, not accepting his affection, but not rejecting it either. He hadn't realised how far behind the rest of the team the two of them were. All he was concerned about was his friend. And then a loud thump, followed by nothing.

His weight began to bear down on her, forcing her to wriggle herself out of his grasp (just a little bit); so she could at least see him. That's when the sounds of the world came back to her.

Apparently, she had unknowingly rested her head on his chest, letting the world drain away. Until she felt him slump down on her. It wasn't until she reached her hand around his back, to try and assure him that he could let her go, that she noticed the dampness of his coat. It was a cold windy night but it certainly wasn't damp. And besides, the liquid wetting her superior's coat was warm, and smelt metalically.

"Dave? You can, uh, let go now," she sniffled, growing slightly concerned when he didn't answer.

She gently wedged her arms between herself and him, pushing gently, willing him to just snap up, blush slightly, and tell her that all would be okay. But he didn't. He crumpled. He fell backwards, hitting his head on the pavement as he did so.

She stood still briefly, looking desperately at her friend and collegue before frantically swinging her head around, searching for her team. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she reached for her gun, hoping that she wasn't overreacting but figuring that if the warm liquid was blood, as she thought it probably was from the smell of it, then someone may have just attacked the other agent.

Softly, she called for her team mates. "Hotch? Morgan? Jayje? Are you there? Reid? Anyone? Please," she begged.

The timid voice began to crack, as an already vulnerable Agent Prentiss stood alone, surrounded by darkness.

Before she knew what was happening, she felt a strong arm snaking its way around her torso, pinning her arms by her side and pulling her in close, before another arm made its way up to cover her mouth.

Her scream was muffled by the hand, as she felt herself being lifted off the ground and carried away. She kicked out violently, panicking, but still retaining the frame of mind to fight back. She bit down hard on the fingers holding her mouth shut. They were withdrawn with a hiss. Without taking a moment to celebrate her successful attack, she let out a blood curdling scream.

"HELP! ROSSI, PLEASE! HELP! HOOOOTCH!"

Once again a hand clamped around her mouth, stopping her from continuing her shrieking but not impairing her ability to struggle. She felt another pair of hands clasp over her ankles, and while she continued to try to get free, her efforts were proved futile as a second person assisted in carrying her to a nearby van, before she was bound and driven away.

This time, she was not embarrassed as tears streamed down her face. She had a valid reason to be scared now.

**A/N: Okay, so I know I have other stories in progress but this idea came to me and I thought I could put it on the back-burner, but then I dreamed about it so, here it is. If you are interested, there is more to it so please let me know.**

**By the way, I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Criminal Minds in any way. I only own the plot and anything that isn't already associated with the current franchise.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi everyone. My writer's block is slowly sorting itself out. Thankyou to those who reviewed the last chapter. Please do the same here, (it really helps to get the creative juices flowing!).**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I affiliated with **_**Criminal Minds**_**. However, any characters or plot lines that are not currently associated with the franchise are mine.]**

The giddy adults stopped in their tracks when the voice of their highly distressed friend echoed throughout the darkness. Her shrill screams reverberated in their heads as they raced toward the panic; guns drawn, flashlights sweeping the ground in a vain attempt to reach their colleague faster.

Morgan was the first to round the corner, spying his fallen comrade before scoping out the area in search of his partner. Hotch joined him as J.J. and Reid raced to Rossi's side.

Whipping out her phone, the now lone woman dialled nine-one-one.

The crisp, clear and calm voice of the dispatcher flooded her hyper-alert ear canals. "Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

"This is Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer Jareau of the F.B.I. I need an ambulance and all available units to my location immediately! We have an agent down and another is currently missing-in-action. I repeat, this is SSA Jareau of the F.B.I. and I need back-up and E.M.S. at my location now. We have an agent down and another remains M.I.A."

"Copy that Agent Jareau. Patrol and E.M.S. units are en-route."

Losing all of her usual pleasantries, the frazzled agent slammed her finger on the end-call button before re-dialling, hitting speed-dial number two.

A chipper voice greeted her. "You have reached the godde…"

"Garcia, not now!" J.J. snapped, regretting it almost immediately as she pictured the wince that no doubt flew across the technical analysts face. Opening her mouth, the agent began to apologise, but instead a gasp dislodged itself from the back of her throat and made its way out into the cool night air.

She slowly crept forwards, towards the item that was lying a few feet from the edge of the path. She refused to believe that it was a Glock; afterall, it could just be an oddly shaped stick. However, as Hotch and Morgan came back into view empty handed, a horrified Agent Jareau confirmed her suspicions.

A defeated Morgan walked past Hotch, who was now crouched next to Reid, helping him to immobilise Rossi's neck with a pair of shoes and belt, to his other friend, who now stood stock-still, phone in hand, starring at the ground. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he softly began to speak. "Jayje? It's okay. She might have just stumbled upon an attack or something, or chased the guy who left Rossi like that," he said, pointing in the direction of the still unconscious, and now immobile, man.

"Without her gun?" It was both a statement and a question.

"Wha-?" Morgan started, before the woman beside him reached down and took the now blatantly obviously weapon between her thumb and forefinger.

The pair stood silently, dumbfounded.

A faint screech drew them from their stupor.

J.J. looked down at her hand, to her phone, before exclaiming, "Oh shit! Garcia!"

Taking the phone from J.J., Morgan bought the device to his ear, but quickly recoiled when Garcia's voice screamed through the receiver.

"Jennifer Jareau, if you do not answer me in the next five seconds I will call your mother! 1 ... 2 ..."

"Garcia, calm down okay!"

"Morgan?"

"Yeah, baby girl, it's me."

"Where's Jayje? Is she okay?"

"She's right here. She'll be okay. Look Penelope, I'm going to be straight with you but you have to promise me that you'll keep your cool, okay?"

"Morgan, please, just tell me already."

"Okay, okay. Rossi is down and unconscious and the last we heard of from Prentiss was when she was screaming for help. I need you to get C.S.U. out here and all available agents."

"I called nine-one-one and they're sending patrol and E.M.S. units," J.J. piped.

"Aright Jayje. Did you get that Garcia?"

"Y-yes," Garcia stammered. "I've just traced Em's phone but got nothing. The battery must have been removed along with the S.I.M. card. I put an alert on it. Should I put a B.O.L.O. out on her?"

Morgan's attention was drawn away from the phone call momentarily when Reid called for help in turning Rossi to his side. "Not yet baby girl. I'll call you once we know more."

"Wait, Morgan," Garcia yelped. It was too late however. As the dial-tone sounded through her small office, Penelope Garcia whispered, "Stay safe Princess. We're coming!"

**A/N: So I had a bit of trouble writing this chapter (and the next one) so any feedback at all would be great! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

The man who had initially grabbed her was now sitting on the floor of the van, nursing his swollen, bleeding hand. Curling herself tightly into the foetal position, Prentiss watched him warily as his gaze slowly lifted to her twisted form.

Narrowing his eyes, the grubby man shifted slightly. Without a word of warning, he launched himself onto her, his sheer weight pinning her to the floor.

Emily squirmed uncomfortably as her left side was crushed into the cold metal. Taking a firm hold on clump of her hair, the man leaned in close, yanked her head backwards and took out a knife. The blade glinted as the van hurtled past streetlights.

Her attacker's halitosis became startlingly obvious when he leaned in and hissed, "This is for biting me, BITCH!"

Agent Prentiss watched as the extremely sharp hunting knife was bought down to the flesh on her forearm. She was forced, (by the hand still clutching at her hair), to watch as the warm crimson liquid flowed freely from her pierced porcelain skin.

Wincing, she watched the man's face contort into a crooked smile as he slowly, but surely, drew the blade down the outermost side of her right arm. Without any hint of a warning, the vulgar creature thrust the knife further into her forearm, just above the elbow.

Up until then, the incredibly brave woman had been able to handle the pain, but as the knife twisted in the deep hole that now graced her limb, Emily Prentiss found herself unable to stifle her muffled screams. She could feel her flesh being torn as the knife was withdrawn and then once again plunged into her blood-covered arm.

Her screeches must have alerted the driver of the van that things were getting out of hand, for, all of sudden, another gruff voice sounded over the hum of the engine.

"Oi, go easy! Just get what we need so we can make the drop and head back!"

"Just getting to the quality stuff is all!"

Prentiss noted that the reply, although annoyed, had subtle hints of fear. Maybe a dominant and submissive pair?

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind as the knife was once again retracted. However, instead of being stabbed into her arm for a third time, it was thrown across the floor. She watched it come to a rest against the rear double-doors of the vehicle. Her attention was hastily returned to her attacker who was now reaching towards a black backpack that had previously gone unnoticed to her trained eye. As his hand busily searched for whatever it was that they sought, his knee digging painfully into her thigh; a feeling similar to when a person with a 'bony-bottom' shifts in one's lap.

The vile man took pleasure in seeing the tough-as-nails agent grit her teeth through the tape that kept her mouth tightly shut. Taking a deep breath as his hand passed over a gun, he was able to resist the urge to kill her right there, and instead opted to follow orders.

He undid the Velcro flap hidden inside the backpack and pulled out the cylindrical container that was stored there. Swiftly pulling it out of the bag, he unscrewed the lid with his teeth before bringing the small bottle to Prentiss' arm. He collected some of the blood that was ferociously spilling out of her arm prior to replacing the lid of the jar, (again with his teeth), and begrudgingly handing it to the driver of the vehicle. With both of his hands free, he took the time to snake his hand slowly and meticulously back down her torso He tore some material from the bottom of Emily's once white blouse and placed the small strip of dirty material roughly on the woman's arm. Once in place, it was pulled tightly, causing a small whimper to squeeze out from the captive's mouth.

Patting her on the head mockingly, the man rose, releasing the pressure on the woman's torso, allowing Prentiss to take the deep breath that she had been longing for. He stepped into the front seat just as the van turned into a well-lit street. He replaced his blood-covered shirt with a large, dark parker before snapping on rubber gloves and taking the vile of blood in between his thumb and fore-finger.

It was time for the first drop.

**A/N: Well hello there! It has been quite a while. My muse has come back with a vengeance but I am trying desperately to get my stories back underway before I start anything else. I hope that everyone had a Merry Xmas! Please R & R.**

**[I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Criminal Minds. Any plot or character that is not associated with the current franchise is mine, unless otherwise specified]**


	4. Chapter 4

After seeing Rossi off in the ambulance with a police escort and leading an unsuccessful initial search of the surround area with the help of local law enforcement, Hotch straightened and took the few steps needed to reach J.J.'s side.

"Have Garcia trace Prentiss' phone and see what she can come up with. I'm going to call Strauss."

It took the blonde a few moments to process what her boss had said. "Uh sir, I already called Garcia. She couldn't trace the phone but she has an alert on it." Looking down at her friend's weapon, which was still clutched between her shaking hands, the young woman continued. She stated bluntly, "I found this."

Hotch nodded. He could see that this woman needed some kind of reassurance but at that precise moment he could offer her none. Instead he patted her gently on the shoulder before stepping away, pulling out his phone and dialling the Section Chief's direct mobile number.

...

Just one night was all she wanted. One night with no phone calls, no vistors. Just a night to sleep. But when you are one of the higher-ups in the FBI, that night becomes a pipe-dream. Tonight however, Erin Strauss was in a mood for dreaming. So when a knock n her door aroused her from a welcomed slumber she was less than amused.

Her feet easily slipped into the cosy slippers waiting for them by the side of her bed and she wrangled her fluffy robe into place.

Traipsing towards her door, she was surprised when no face filled the peephole in the door. Being too tired to think much of it she hauled open the heavy oak door and stood there, waiting for someone to appear. A cool breeze whipped past her and into the hallway as she conceded that it must have been some local kids pulling a prank.

However as she stepped back to close the door, something on her doormat caught her eye. A torn piece of white paper with the word 'JUSTICE' scrawled on it in black marker lay there, flapping slightly due to the intermittent gusts of a frigid wind. Holding it down was a sealed vial, about the size of a test tube, with a dark red substance in it. As the realisation that this substance was blood the woman's stomach flipped. What type of prank was this.

Before another thought could enter her head she heard a familiar ringtone coming from her mobile phone. It was sitting only a few feet away yet she couldn't seem to move. The phone rung out while she stood there, dumbfounded by what she had just found.

The tone once again filled the chilly hallway but this time she was able to reach it. She didn't need to look at the caller I.D. She would know that ringtone anywhere.

"Agent Hotchner." Her voice pitched a little as she answered, suprising not only the person on the other end of the phone but also herself.

"Ma'am. Sorry to call you at this hour Ma'am but there has been an incident involving SSA's Rossi and Prentiss. As you know my team have just closed the strangler case in Chicago. We arrived back in Quantico at twenty-one hundred hours. The team, minus Technical Analyst Garcia, who had already headed home, decided to grab a bite to eat. We were walking back across a park to where our cars were parked after our meal when we heard someone in distress behind us. We doubled back, guns drawn to find Agent Rossi unconscious on the ground. It appeared that he had been hit over the head with a blunt object. He is currently on his way to the hospital. A search of the area turned up nothing but Agent Prentiss' gun."

He stalled. This didn't go unnocticed by the Chief.

"What aren't you saying Agent?"

"Uh, the person in distress Ma'am. It was Agent Prentiss. Given that, and the fact that there has been no sign of her since the attack on Agent Rossi, I think it is safe to assume that she has been incapacitated in some way."

"How long ago was this Agent?"

'About half-an-hour ago Ma'am."

Suddenly, things fell into place in the woman's head. Strauss straightened before beginning to speak.

"I think I may have just been given some sort of proof of life."

**A/N: So here is my next chapter. It is getting interesting for me to write and I hope it is interesting to read. I will continue to write now and may even have chapter 5 posted by the morning. Just wait and see. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So I'm hoping that you have picked up that, for now, one chapter will be based around Prentiss and then the next on the team, Strauss and anything else. Anyway, if not, you do now! I tried to make this chapter longer, as it was pointed out that the chapters were quite short but it kind of failed because I realised that I needed the team's chapter to come in a bit earlier then originally planned. If the chapters are short, please bare with me while I lay the initial story down. The chapters will be longer as time goes by. So please, read on McDuff...**

The van slowly pulled away from the curb with the passenger now back in place. He had just made what they were referring to as a 'drop' and couldn't keep his head inside the van. It would appear that he was waiting to see what would happen back at the drop site. His partner however was not as keen to stay. He was not gentle when he wrenched the foul-smelling man back into place.

Before settling back into his seat, the passenger turned around to speak to the squirming woman.

"So, are you excited?"

Prentiss tried to tell that bastard just how excited she was to kick his balls off but it all just came out as jumbled murmurs.

"That's right bitch. Get all fired up. The boss will like that! And I've heard that you like you encounters, well, rough. Trust me. Rough doesn't even begin to describe what you are in for!"

She shuddered before continuing to work on her ligatures all while listening to the menial conversation taking place between the two thugs. She knew that she wouldn't get out of the binds but she wasn't one to sit around and wait for a fight to come to her. She was the type to bring the fight!

...

She estimated that they drove for about forty minutes before reaching their destination. Forty long minutes in deafening silence, lying on her left side on a hard, cold metal floor. The road they were on was bumpy to say the least. Every now and again her head would briefly, yet painfully, connect with the ridged van floor. But, although situations weren't ideal, Prentiss knew that this was probably the best position she would experience for the time being. She knew that her team would find her, she just didn't know if they would be in time to save her from whatever was to come.

When the rumbling vehicle finally pulled to a stop Prentiss was well and truly exhausted. She has been analysing the conversations between the beastly men non-stop as well as working on her ligatures and trying desperately to ignore the pain in her arm, all while running on the adrenaline released in her attack.

She was fighting yet another wave of vertigo when the sliding door of the van was flung open by the driver of the vehicle. The passenger had climbed back into the back of the van. He had packed up the knife, the roll of duct-tape and other loose items that were strewn on the bottom of the van. Together, they grabbed Emily by her ankles and underneath her arms. She was to exhausted to fight; her adrenaline wearing out. The men hoisted her up and over the lip of the van. The man holding her legs shifted them so that they were tucked underneath his right arm, before pinning them to his side. The smaller man, (the passenger), was the first to speak.

"I'll get the doors then meet you inside. We better get our payment fast. I got somewhere to be!"

After hearing that, Prentiss felt as if she was falling. She initially attributed this to the dizziness that she felt, but when her head connected on the dirt ground with a loud thud, this theory was abandoned. Shocked screams and gasps came from her mouth as the guy holding her underneath her arms slipped his hands away and turned to close the van doors.

Before passing out, Prentiss was able to acknowledge the fact that she was being dragged. Where, she didn't know. To be honest, she didn't care. She just wanted this to all be over.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey guys. I just wanted to clarify a few things before continuing. Garcia is at her house and the team is at Garfield Park in Washington D.C. after finishing their case in Chicago. Therefore, they are about an hour from Quantico but I figure that they are driving with lights and sirens, so probably a thirty to forty minute drive. That's all for now. If you are confused please don't hesitate to shoot me a message! **

Reid couldn't think straight. In fact, he was completely drawing a blank, possibly for the first time in history. All he could seem to focus on was the fact that his boss, someone with whom he associated the highest amount of respect, was lying in front of him, bleeding and unconscious.

As soon as the ambulance arrived from Georgetown Emergency Response Medical Service (G.E.R.M.S.) the two medical officers had performed what is known as a 'scoop-and-run'. It was too dark for them to safely stabilise Rossi on the scene, so they instead opted to do so in the ambulance. His pupils were equal and reactive, his temperature was in the normal limit, his heart rate and blood pressure were steady and satisfactory and his oxygen levels were good. Reid kept repeating this in his head, trying to figure out if he had missed something vital. But he couldn't think, he couldn't feel; he was numb.

The Emergency Medical Technician (E.M.T.) sitting in the back of the wailing vehicle with the agents was securing the I.V. in the crock of Agent Rossi's left elbow for the third time since they loaded him up and began their speedy trip to the nearest hospital. It wasn't just because the line had come loose due to Rossi's weak attempts at fighting off an invisible assailant, but rather because of the all-knowing gaze of the younger man sitting across from him. The boy had not stopped fidgeting since he sat down and this was beginning to put the man on edge. He would be more than relieved when they pulled into the Emergency bay at George Washington Hospital and he would be able to get away from those critical eyes.

According to Reid's calculations, the drive from the park had taken a total of six minutes and thirty-eight seconds. Rossi had been semi-conscious for fifteen minutes and nine seconds before the E.M.T.'s arrived (that was including the time it took for the team to arrive on scene after hearing Emily's screams) and it took the paramedics an extra fifty-two seconds to get him into the ambulance. In total, Rossi had been incapacitated for one thousand, three hundred and fifty-nine seconds, or twenty-two minutes and fifty-nine seconds.

As the ambulance pulled around the final corner on their way to the hospital, Rossi's vitals started going haywire. His blood pressure went sky-high, his heart rate bottomed out and his oxygen levels began a slow but steady decrease.

The contents of the bulky, wailing vehicle rocked as the ambulance screeched to a stop. The doors to the vehicle were flung open with incredible force and four individual sets of eyes met those of a worried doctor and a frazzled E.M.T. The latter was the first to speak.

"Male, approximately fifty years old. Blunt force trauma with an unknown weapon to the occipital region. Large scalp laceration present. Estimated blood loss is one hundred and fifty millilitres. Temporary pressure dressing applied to steam blood flow to affected region with pleasing results. Conscious on arrival at the scene. 'Scoop-and-run' initiated due to conditions at the scene. Initially responding to painful stimuli, although combative, up until loss of consciousness approximately one minute ago. Sal-"

"Forty-eight and a half seconds to be exact." All eyes turned towards the lanky man with no shoes that was following the group into a waiting resuscitation bay.

"Yes, thankyou Agent Reid but I'm sure the doctors can handle things from here on without any more help," the second paramedic, (the one that had been driving), cut in.

"Actually, it's Doctor Reid and it is my job to stay with this Agent twenty-four/seven so if you do your job, and let me do mine, we shouldn't have a problem."

The gurney had stopped moving as a silent war was waged. The doctor that was obviously taking on Rossi's case stepped in.

"Gentlemen, please focus on the patient. Dr. Reid, you may remain with him if you stay out of the way and silent. If not, I will have security escort you to the waiting room while we stabilise the patient." His gaze shifted to the sheepish looking E.M.T. next to him after receiving a barely discernable nod from the younger man. "Please continue."

"Uh, saline drip placed once inside the ambulance. Vitals were stable up until just prior to loss of consciousness. Oxygen and airway opening manoeuvres commenced. Currently breathing on his own with support. No other medications were given."

"Okay, thank you guys, we've got it from here," the doctor said with a quick smile before turning to the nurses and his intern. "Set up for a rapid-sequence induction intubation. We need to secure his airway before we do anything else."

...

It took just over fifteen minutes for SSA Jareau to get to Penelope Garcia's building. As she took the stairs, three at a time, she could hear that scream; that awful, glass-shattering scream; that had escaped her best friend's mouth. She accepted that she would probably never be rid of that nightmarish sound.

When she reached Garcia's front door she expected it to be chained and bolted (as it had been since the day of her attack). However, she found it propped open and barely reachable. Surrounding the only access point into the apartment were boxes, bags, cables, files and other items that are on a technical analyst's 'must have' list.

As J.J. picked her way into the living room she was greeted only by the panicked voice of her friend.

"Jay! Good, you're here. Um, what else will I need? I've got my laptop, I've printed a list of all of the cases that Em has worked on, all of the equipment I need and a go-bag."

She was out of breath and very jumpy. If J.J. could not calm her down a little bit she may not be of much help.

"Garcia, take a breath. You have more than enough things and if you forget something we can send someone back to get it."

"But what if we need it. Right then. To save Emily. We have to get her back Jay. I can't lose her! We can't lose her! What about our Ladies Nights? What about our shopping trips? What about tango lessons?"

With each question Garcia's voice grew shriller and was laden with more panic.

Taking a hold of her friend, the young agent spoke. "Penelope, you need to listen to me now. Take another breath. You are no use to Em in this state. Come on. In and out. In … and out. Good. Now, let's get your things and go."

"Okay."

With that, the two collected as much 'luggage' as each of their arms could hold and headed down the stairs. It took two trips but they got everything from the apartment to the SUV and were back on the road within five minutes of J.J.'s arrival.

...

There was nothing more for Erin Strauss to do at her own home. After speaking to Agent Hotchner she had done as he had instructed – left the package on the doorstep and wait for Agent Morgan, local LEO's and a Crime Scene Response Unit (C.S.R.U.) to arrive. After that, the plan was to head to the B.A.U. to give an official statement and receive an official update on the pressing case.

Hotch would have gone there himself if he had not needed to conduct a preliminary analysis of the original crime scene. They were two agents down, effectively three as Reid was still with Rossi, so they needed all hands on deck. He was in charge of the operation and therefore needed to be able to co-ordinate searches, press releases, ransom drops, hostage negotiation, or whatever else may come up. He could not do that if they did not have a profile and they would not be able to put together a profile if adequate scrutiny was not made towards the various crime scenes. It was for this reason that he had stayed behind in the park and sent Morgan to the Section Chief's house. He had called Garcia back and asked her to 'sit tight' until someone came to pick her up. He had sent J.J.

They didn't know if Prentiss was the only target so, for now, he wanted all members of his team to have at least one other team member with them at all times, (mind you, this did not apply to him at this point in time)! To date, there had been no explanation as to why Prentiss had been taken or what condition she was in. As the boss, he needed to think the best to support his team but, as an experienced agent, there was part of him that doubted the positive outcome that everyone was hoping for.

However, until Prentiss was safely back with the team, he would not let himself believe that she was either in an satisfactory state of mind or being.

Correction; he could not let himself believe that she was either in a satisfactory state of mind or being.

He was an FBI agent; it was in his job description to hope for the best, but expect the worst.

He pulled into the underground parking lot at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia. The cool, damp car park was a stark contrast to the dry, stale air being blown throughout the inside of the building. When he walked into the bullpen he knew that no one from his team would be there waiting for him, yet he still found himself feeling quite disappointed when he pushed his way through the glass doors and his only raven-haired agent was not sitting there, with a grin plastered on her face, waiting to tell him that this was all an elaborate prank!

He walked up the stairs to the platform outside his office door but before he reached for the handle he found himself turning to take one last look at the large, still room in front of him. Hotch knew that in a matter of twenty or thirty minutes the office space would be teeming with people.

J.J. would be returning to the B.A.U. soon with Penelope in tow. Garcia had been in her living room when she got the call about Emily and had been able to access the FBI database through her laptop. She had been instructed to stay put until someone came to pick her up.

Hotch imagined that Strauss was not far off, with Morgan following closely behind. Morgan had been sent to the Chief's house to secure the scene and walk it through to gather preliminary information to aid in developing a profile.

Depending on Rossi's condition, Reid might join them that night but, considering it was nearly a quarter to one in the morning, it was more likely that they would next see Reid sometime in the early afternoon. For now, the team would have to manage without him. If they desperately needed his insight they could always pick up a phone.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay, so this is my second attempt at this chapter. Sorry for the delay but for whatever reason I could not write it. My first draft was from about six different perspectives and it just felt like an amateurish attempt (not that I'm an expert by any means!) Anyway, due to the fact that my school exams are now over (and the principal of the school just kicked us out of the boarding house because we were too loud) I have been able to get this version out. Let me know what your think…**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Criminal Minds**_** or any persons or storylines associated with the current franchise. However, I do own anything not currently associated with the franchise (as of 17/05/2012).]**

Someone was moving her. That much she was able to determine without opening her eyes. Anything else would be pure speculation. She could speculate that the person was strong. She could speculate that the ground was cold, damp and dusty. She could speculate that there were other people around them. However, she could not know for sure until she opened her eyes. But even just the simple act of cracking her eyelids proved to be too much. The woman just wanted to sleep and the rhythmic drip-dropping of water and, the slow and steady movement that she was experiencing, seemed set to allow her this luxury. That was, until she was hauled up and over the shoulder of said strong man.

The sudden action caused the wind to be knocked out of her and left her gasping for some sort of relief. With her hands bound behind her, and the man's shoulder digging painfully into her diaphragm. The thumping motion of his heavy foot footsteps only succeeded in rendering her further incapacitated. She tried to move; she tried to fight, but with the blood pooling to her head she was beginning to feel dizzy, her brain was beginning to cloud and she could just make out faint stars in front of her eyes.

Her body was once again thrown into turmoil when she was carelessly flipped backwards and into a solid chair. It began tipping backwards, simply from the motion being forced onto it. The man must have stopped this from going any further because it took only seconds for her feet to feel the comfort of the ground. It was then that she managed to sneak a peek from under the safety of her eyelids.

The room was dark. There were no windows and the only entry/exit was a rusted metal door. It appeared to be a sliding door, like one that might be fitted to a walk-in freezer. Perhaps it was just her eyes adjusting but she swore that she could see figures lining one of the walls. Big figures. Burly figures. The type of figures that you would try to avoid under normal circumstances. The kind of figures that used to protect her and her mother when she was a child.

Her momentary lapse of concentration on the man handling her left him enough time to begin tying her to the armchair. First he tied her arms, tightly, to the splintered wood. A slight hiss escaped her lips as a rather large splinter entered her wrist. This got his attention. He sped up his actions, frantically securing her legs before adding a final piece of rope around her chest, making absolutely sure that she was completely immobilised. Then he was gone. His presence left the room with a particular stench that simply seemed to linger in the air. It clung to her every breath and put a bad taste in her mouth.

Little did she know that what was to come would worsen this taste more than she ever though humanly possible.

….

She must have slipped out of consciousness again because she realised as she began to stir that she was not the only one in the room. Someone seemed to be standing directly in front of her (or at least their form was) and had begun to throw small things in her general direction. Most of them hit her in the face or upper torso, some hit her legs and others missed completely.

For her attempts to lift her heavy head she was rewarded with a side-splitting headache. Dizziness and nausea stopped her from opening her eyes for an extra couple of seconds but this did not stop whoever the hell it was that was throwing rocks her way. When her head had become an easier target she had started to cop the debris in the eyes and nose. It was more than a little irritating and slightly painful. And of course, it didn't help her head one bit.

She tried to remember where she was, struggling to clear the fog from her brain however a slight movement of her body, and the searing pain that consequently spread from her arm throughout her entire body, was enough the jumpstart the memory.

The park, Rossi, the tears, blood, hands …"HOTCH!"

The scream tore from her throat before she had a chance to tell herself that he was not there. Her eyes shot open purely to see if the experience was just a horrible nightmare. Darkness and spots cloaked her vision.

Slowly, her eyes focused. The figure, still somewhat blurry, came into view and she could clearly make out white teeth through a broad smile.

"Welcome to the land of the living Emily."

The way he said her name made her skin crawl. This was not a pleasant welcome. This was an uninvited one.

Still slightly dazed she asked, "Who are you?"

"Now that would just be too easy my dear," came the cool reply.

There was emotion in his voice. It was calm and calculated but still held something; something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. As her eyes finally focused fully she saw a resemblance. She knew this man, or at least someone close to him. Who is was still escaped her however.

"Fine. If I can't know who you are can I at least know why I'm here."

"All in good time."

Prentiss felt her blood boil. "Then what the hell is the point of having me here if you can't tell me who you are or why I'm here?"

"Time shall tell my darling." As he said this the man moved towards her, crouched down and cupped her chin in his right hand. "You really are a fine specimen."

Suddenly, efficient hands began unbuttoning her shirt. Frantically the woman began an attempt to get away from fast moving fingers but when the pain in her still oozing arm sent her into a tailspin she stopped.

Exposing her shoulders, then man let the shirt fall to her elbows, exposing her shoulders, chest and stomach. Her bra stayed securely locked.

"You really are a fine specimen," he remarked.

"Bite me!"

"Okay," he said before quickly moving forward and sinking his teeth into her shoulder. The shock was enough to elicit a gasp but as he began ripping off a chunk of flesh Emily could not hold back her strangled scream. Tears involuntarily filled her eyes as the man pulled back.

Spitting the lump of tissue onto the ground beside him he looked up into her dark eyes. There was a fire in them; a pained fire but a fire nonetheless. Something told him that this woman was going to be the one to fulfil his every need and desire.

Smiling at her, blood covering his mouth and teeth, he began thinking about his next move. He had her credentials and weapons. Her watch was easy to acquire as was her phone. Her myriad of keys were already safely stored. He had the flesh. All he needed know was the earrings. And maybe a few photos to accompany them.

"What lovely earrings you have in dear. Where'd you get them?"

Silence.

"Never mind, I already know the answer. It was that tech genius of yours. What's her name again? Oh right, Penelope."

"If you so much as touch her I'll pull your brain out through your nose and cut you up into little pieces you son of a bitch!"

"You and what army?" came the snide response.

All she could think of to do in response was to stare the evil man straight in the eyes. She was telling him, silently, that she meant business. He was threatening her and she was tossing it right back in his direction.

He moved forward, invading her personal space. His face is barely an inch away from hers when he says, "Well, at any rate, I'd like to see you try."

His hands shot forward, startling the woman. From somewhere unknown (a pocket maybe) he had produced a pair of pliers. He held her head still with one hand as the other reached up to her earlobe, grasped tight around the small hoop earrings and pulled with incredible force.

Frantic movements began rocking the chair back and forth as her earlobe split in to, ripping the jewellery from its cosy perch. Before giving her a second to think, the pliers once again wrapped around her earlobe (this time on the opposite side) and proceeded in the same manner.

The pain was excruciating. Emily couldn't help but yell out in agony, tears automatically overflowing from her eyes. Blood dripped down on to the collar of her shirt from both sides, staining it a crimson red.

He held his prize up in front of him. The earrings still had bits of skin attached but that didn't matter. Everything was finally beginning to fall into place.

He looked down at the pathetic excuse for a woman in front of him and noticed her pallor and the jerking movements she made as bile rose in her throat. He moved just in time to avoid the chunky spray of vomit that was forced out of her mouth.

As she sat up she noticed mats of blood and chunks of vomit in her dishevelled hair but that didn't worry her in the least. All she cared about now was staying awake for, as the pain in her earlobes pulsated through her entire head, she could see the faint shadows of unconsciousness looming precariously on the outskirts of her vision.

It was not long before they took over.

**A/N: So this chapter actually made me a bit sick to the stomach. There is something about having one's earlobes torn that really gets the stomach churning. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'm still looking for a Beta guys so if you would like to get the first look at new chapters and help me out with ideas, be sure to let me know!**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I affiliated with the characters and storylines of the current **_**Criminal Minds**_** franchise. However, everything else is mine.]**

Quickly, the concerned agents gathered at the round table, sparing few pleasantries before voicing their immediate concerns.

"We need to send out a search party."

"Are you kidding Morgan? A profile is our best bet!"

"But we don't have anything to go on J.J."

Silence.

"Hey! Don't look at me! What do you want me to do? Pull information out of a hat?"

"Kind of Garcia. With all this equipment you've got surely there is something somewhere about where she is or who might have her!"

"I'm sure there is Morgan but it is not something that I can find!"

"Are you sure that you've checked everywhere?"

"Seriously? You're seriously asking me that? ME!"

Just as Garcia was about to give the two people sitting in front of her a piece of her mind, a deafening yell assaulted their ears.

"AGENTS!"

The room suddenly fell once more into silence. This time, it was not a hopeful or expecting silence. It was a shocked, terrified silence. The kind that is often referred to as 'the-calm-before-the-storm'.

"If it is okay with you, I would like to continue more rational ways for finding our friend."

A quiet mumble of "yes sir" from three very embarrassed F.B.I. personnel let S.S.A. Hotchner know that his team was ready to begin the building blocks of a profile.

"Okay, let's start at the beginning. Morgan, when you and Prentiss went to get the burgers did you notice anyone following you?"

"No sir."

"Any cars tracking you?"

"No sir."

"Anything out of the ordinary?"

"No sir, nothing of note."

"Alright, let's move on. When we left Prentiss and Rossi together in the park did anyone notice anything out of the ordin–"

Hotch was cut off by the violent vibrations of his ringing phone. Looking at the caller I.D. he accepted the call and placed the receiver to his ear.

"Reid, how's Rossi."

Reid's voice was nearly drowned out by the noise in the background however he must have stepped into a place with more privacy for only a few words into his next sentence his voice became clearer.

"Yeah Hotch, he's okay. He still isn't responding so they have taken him up for some scans and have sent some blood samples off to the lab. They're thinking that he just got a pretty decent whack on the head but considering the length of time he has been unconscious for it could be anything from a simple concussion to a brain bleed or even something more sinister lik–"

"That's enough Reid. I'm sure he will be just fine. We're just starting a briefing and I would like your input if you have time. Are you somewhere private?"

"Yes sir. I managed to step away from the commotion for a bit. Let me just get something to write on."

The line crackled and thumped a bit while the genius on the other end rustled up some paper and a pen from his shoulder bag.

"Okay Hotch, I'm putting you on speaker."

"You're on speaker too Reid. Okay, where were we?"

"The park," came the uncertain reply from the media liaison. "You were wondering if we saw anything unusual in the park. I know that I didn't. If I had, it would have drawn my attention."

"Same goes for me Hotch. We were distracted. I don't think anything we saw would be of use anyway."

"That's fair enough Morgan but, if need be, would you all be open for a cognitive interview?"

Four answers of 'yes' chorused through the room, the fourth participant in the chant being the most surprising.

Most of the people present had forgotten completely about the fact that Section Chief Strauss was sitting in on this briefing. Her willingness to become a co-operative witness and not put up the political barricades surprised them all. She had even surprised herself.

In an uncharacteristically soft voice, Aaron prompted the Chief to detail her experience and eventual find.

"I was woken by a knock at my door at approximately zero hundred hours. There was no one there and I automatically assumed that it was just a couple of drunk teenagers pulling a prank. I began to close the door when I discovered … well … yeah. That's when you rang," she said looking at Hotch for direction.

Without missing a beat, he asked, "how much time elapsed between the knock on the door and you answering the door."

"Probably about a minute and a half. Why?"

"I just wanted to see if you had maybe had a visual on the perpetrator without knowing it Ma'am."

Suddenly, the emotions that Erin had held back bubbled to the surface. In a terrified voice she began to panic.

"What? Agent Hotchner are you saying that the perpetrator could have seen me? What about my children. They are at home asleep. Are they safe? Should my husband take them elsewhere?"  
>Before she could continue Morgan cut her off.<p>

"Ma'am, your children are safe. Odds are that the UNSUB will not return to your address. It is crawling with cops and agents at the moment. In fact, they would have to be stupid to return and they obviously aren't or they wouldn't have gotten the drop on Em– … uh, Prentiss."

There was a brief silence as the woman took in what he had to say.

"Thankyou Agent Morgan."

He nodded.

Hotch took the opportunity to continue.

"Okay, Garcia I want you going through our all of the cases the team has worked on since Emily joined us, as well as the ones she worked alone. Cross reference them with recent releases from prison and death records to rule people out. I also want you checking on similar cases in the past ten years. We need broad search parameters because he might have taken his ideas from someone else, or even done it before himself. There is no way he could get to two trained F.B.I. agents without some experience."

"Consider it done."

"Reid, I need you to stay with Dave and update us when possible. If you can start work on a map of the comfort zone that would be good but I understand if it is not possible."

"Anything's possible with a mind like mine Hotch!"

"Fair enough. J.J. and Morgan, there isn't really much for you to do so, for now, try to catch up on some paperwork. J.J. if you could relocate to the bullpen for the time being that would be useful."

"No problem Hotch."

"Are you sure there is nothing we can do?"

"Morgan, trust me on this. We just have to sit tight. If we rush information it may not be accurate and that may bring more negatives than it does positives."

"Is there really such a thing when Emily is involved? I have to do something Hotch!"

"I understand that this is personal Agent Morgan. We are on our own turf. We never consider that the danger could come from home. But it can and, when it does, we need to control it quickly and efficiently. To do that, we need to tread lightly until we are absolutely sure. So, it's either my way, or the highway. Take your pick."

Reluctantly, Morgan conceeded. He knew Hotch was right, it just infuriated him to have to sit around and wait for the UNSUB's next move. It gave him the ultimate power. And what is more frightening then an axe-wielding, sadistic narcissist?

An axe-wielding, sadistic narcissist who is holding both your partner, and the power.

…..

It took only a few minutes for the team to file out of the room towards their various office areas. Hotch stayed back after the exit of Morgan (who had been tasked with carrying Garcia's equipment to her lair). J.J. had left almost immediately after being dismissed and was collecting files from her office while Garcia set her landline up on Prentiss' desk. Only Strauss remained.

"How dire do you believe this situation is Agent Hotchner?"

"To be honest, I have no idea. She was snatched in a public spot which would suggest confidence but the fact that it was almost pitch black at the time would suggest otherwise. It is safe to assume that there is more than one UNSUB just due to logistics. It would take more than one guy to overpower two trained F.B.I. agents and, even if she was secured, they would not want to leave Prentiss alone for the few moments it took to leave the note and vial at your door. Factor in the message left for you and we have a possible revenge situation. All that adds up to a serious situation. I believe that the stakes are extremely high on this one."

"So what can I do to be of use? I certainly cannot sit around here waiting for something more to happen."

"Actually Ma'am, sometimes that really is all that can be done. I suppose that a cognitive interview would be helpful but only if you feel up to it of course."

"Under certain conditions, I would be more than happy to co-operate. The proviso of sorts is that you conduct the interview and anything that does not immediately pertain to the case is kept in the upmost confidence."

"You have my word."

"Okay. Where would you like to do this?"

"How about we step into my office. It should only take about twenty minutes."

"Lead the way Agent Hotchner."

…..

"What do you think they're talking about?"

Morgan turned to J.J. as she looked back into the room they had just exited. He shifted a heavy package in his hands before tossing back a reply.

"Not sure. Probably something more about the vial."

J.J. shuddered as she remembered the blood; the blood that had probably come from her friend.

"Do you think it's hers?"

No further clarification was needed as to who the woman was referring to.

"I hope not but I imagine so." Both of the adults knew that imagination truly could be a killer and that hope could be just as crippling.

A silence filled the space between the two. It wasn't an awkward silence more a contemplative silence.

J.J. decided to take the time to gather files to work on from her desk while Morgan shuffled off towards Garcia's office.

J.J. was not exactly sure how she felt about being assigned to Emily's desk but it was not something she was going to think about too much. She had promised herself that when they got her back, and they would, that she would buy some flowers for the space, just to brighten the woman's day, (and as an apology for the chaos that was about to take hold of the organised area).

As she was picking up a couple of the thicker folders from her desk her eyes landed on the photograph of her son. She decided in that moment that she was going to be honest with herself about how she felt. She had seen people bottle emotions up for years. Hell, she had done it herself.

However, this time was different. She slowly closed the door of her office and clicked the lock before sliding down to rest on the ground. A few tears streaked down her face and a sob shook her body. She looked to the sky, clasped her hands together and, as if praying to some higher being, begged for Emily's safe return.

…..

Within seconds, Garcia had ducked into J.J.'s office, removed her phone and all its accompanying wires, and was moving once again towards to bullpen. She passed a worried J.J. on her way back, smiling in her direction, but the pre-occupied blonde did not notice. She shrugged it off as she finally made it to Prentiss' desk. It felt wrong to unplug the woman's landline but she really had no choice.

If they were to find her, the team needed to stay together and in constant contact. Garcia could do that through video feed as it was unrealistic to move all of her equipment into the bullpen or vice versa. However, J.J. only needed to transfer a few folders from one desk to another, and 'hey-presto', instant contact.

So Garcia did as she was told and asked no questions when she passed Morgan in the hall and got the same response from him as she had from Jennifer.

Reaching her office, her pushed open the door and closed it behind her, locking it to make sure no-one drew her focus away from the task at hand. Not needing anything from the multitude of black boxes that now filled the space, she sat in her chair and started up her computers. They only took a few minutes to load but those few minutes felt like an eternity to the time-poor woman.

She honestly just wanted to get to work. The sooner she could search past cases, the sooner she might find a lead and the sooner Emily could come home.

…..

Morgan lifted with his knees, trudging down the stairs leading from the briefing room to the bullpen with a large, black case that was to be taken into Garcia's office. It had taken the girls and a security guard a lot of energy to get the box into the elevator and then into the room but he was expected to be able to do it himself. He nearly cursed when J.J.'s quiet voice asked him about their colleague but he felt compelled to answer her. Afterall, what good would he do by losing his cool right at that moment? To be honest, it would probably just make things worse.

So he chose to bite his tongue and continued with the task at hand after a brief, but enlightening, conversation with the woman. He lined the box up with the wall in the office before slowly lowering it to the ground. He walked forward stretching as he made his way back towards the bullpen. He was now expected to be completing previously existing work but everyone knew that the probability of that actually happening was similar to the likelihood that this was all an over-reaction.

He sat heavily in his chair, flicked a switch at his computer and waited for the machine to boot-up. He stared blankly ahead, lost in his own exhausted thoughts.

A loud thump somewhere to his left drew him out of his trance. J.J. had just dumped her files on Prentiss' desk and, with a thud, half of them had fallen to the ground. He moved from his chair to assist her in picking them up, surprised that she actually appeared to be considering doing some unrelated work.

"Seriously? You're actually going to do other work? So what, Prentiss gets taken, Rossi gets put in the hospital and you just carry on like nothing is the matter?"

"Morgan, I'm not doing nothing!"

"You are J.J. Look at you! You have files out here, you have taken over her desk, yo-"

"I am just trying to keep it together here! If I was doing nothing I would not be here. I would be at home, with my son. But no, I'm here. We are all here. We all feel guilty Morgan. We all wish that we could have prevented this but the truth is, if someone was targeting her or us, this would have happened one way or another. All we can do now is sit tight and pace ourselves. The last thing we need now is for half to team to be injured or missing, and the other half experiencing a psychotic break!"

She stopped and took a breath. Had she overstepped the line?

"I'm sorry Jay."

He cast his eyes down. This was going to be hard to say but somewhere inside of him he knew that it needed to be verbalised.

"I just can't help but feel that I let her down."

The woman in front of him took a step closer, drawing his eyes away from the carpet for the briefest of moments. He was wishing he could take back what he had said. So was she.

"That's not true Morgan. You've always had her back. You are her partner and I'm sure that she knows that you would be the first one to put a bullet between someone's eyes if you thought they were about to hurt her."

"Yeah I guess Jay but it doesn't really seem to help."

She bridged the gap between them, taking him into an embrace.

"I know. Nothing will until we get her back."

…..

Erin Strauss sat in a dark leather armchair in Agent Hotchner's office. Although the curtains remained open, no light filled the room aside from that cast by artificial bulbs. The time of day as well as the location of the building prevented such light from entering the area.

She felt uncomfortable; more than uncomfortable. She felt, exposed. She was about to hand her mind over to one of her agents; a man on her payroll; and man who reported to her. She knew that he was trustworthy but that did not seem to quell her discomfort.

As he sat across from her, she could feel the metaphoric butterflies in the pit of her stomach. She felt as though she shouldn't be doing this but knew in her heart that one of her agent's lives was in danger and she could help … maybe.

"Okay Chief Strauss, I need you to take a deep breath for me," Hotch began.

"Call me Erin."

"Okay. Erin, can you close your eyes for me please. Thankyou. Now, take another deep breath. I need you to go back to earlier tonight. You have just woken up from a knock at your door. What do you see?"

"It's dark. There are no lights on and all the curtains are closed."

Erin could hear the man in front of her scribbling on a pad of paper. Then he spoke.

"Okay, what do you hear?"

"Nothing at first. My husband snoring. Then a knock at the door."

"Okay Erin. I need you to answer the door. Tell me what you see."

"Again, nothing at first. I go to try and close the door and then I see the vial. It's just sitting there."

Hotch could hear the emotion starting to well up in his boss' voice. He needed to calm her down if he was going to get anything useful from her.

"Okay, take a deep breath Erin. Good. Now, I need you to imagine that your eyes were closed. What did you hear? What did you smell? What did you feel?"

"The wind. I can feel the wind. And there is a car. No, a van. The engine is on and it seems to just be sitting there. I can smell the fumes. It must be an old vehicle. I hear it pulling away from the curb. Then there is nothing."

"Okay Erin. I need you to go back a bit too when you hear the van moving. I want you to pause and open your eyes. Can you see the vehicle?"

"Yes! Oh my, I can. It's dark and has white plates. I can't make out the numbers though."

"That's okay Erin. You did we-"

"Wait!" she said, eyes springing open. "One of the doors is blue. Like a different blue. As if it had been replaced but not re-painted."

"That's great Ma'am. That is very helpful."

"Is it really?"

Hotch could tell that his boss needed validation so he gave it to her.

"Yes. Now, what I'm going to do is organise for you to go through a variety of car paint colours to identify the exact colour of the door. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes. Yes, anything to help."

"Okay Ma'am. I'll send someone to your office with a sample booklet. You can head back there now if you wish."

"Thankyou Agent Hotchner."

"Thankyou Ma'am."

As his boss moved to the door, Hotch moved to his desk. He would never have told Chief Strauss but her insight was useless unless they could find the vehicle. The odds that the van was fixed in a repair shop was slim-to-none as any good repair job would have come with a paint job.

But Agent Hotchner could not say that. Not without risking his job and jeopardising his standing in the F.B.I. So he let Strauss believe that she had helped. For her sake more than anyone else's. It was the least he could do after the night that she had had.

…..

As Reid ended his conversation with his boss, a familiar face filled the doorway. The look on the doctor's face told him that whatever news was to come was not good. The map that Hotch had requested would have to wait. Right now, his attention was needed elsewhere.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: It has been a while since we last met. I want to apologise for this. School started and I got busy and then it was week seven. Amazing how fast time flies! For those of you just joining us, strap yourselves in because this chapter is about to knock-your-socks-off. For those of you returning, thankyou. I am truly honoured that you read my work. Without further adieu, I give you the latest chapter of Immeasurable Strength. Much love, Scottie.**

**[I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Criminal Minds in any way. I only own the plot and anything that isn't already associated with the current franchise.]**

As light filtered into her eyes, Emily Prentiss was grateful for the release. Darkness had held her in its grip for far too long. When her eyes focused, a familiar dark figure graced her sight.

"Hey Morgan," she managed to croak out.

However, when the figure turned she knew that it was definitely not Morgan. That's when the memories once again came in an exhausting flood of emotion.

Tears pricked her eyes as the pain from her earlobes came once again to the forefront of her mind.

She forced the pain into one of her cluttered compartments as her instinct took over, making her hyper-aware of her surroundings.

The room was still dark. Still damp. Still dusty. Still cold. Figures still donned the walls. One of them shifted, squashing her suspicion that they were a figment of her tired mind. To make matters worse they all appeared to be holding machine guns. The way that the man held his hands. His stance. Great. Not only were they heavily armed, but they were trained too. Surely they all weren't here to keep her in. Afterall, the space was tiny, and there were at least fifteen, if not twenty men in there.

Movement in front of her once again drew her attention to the man who appeared to be running the show.

"Hi Princess," he jeered, eliciting a slight recoil from the woman in front of him. "Sleep well?"

Prentiss had always loved her nickname. Up until that point. Once those words left his mouth the woman swore that she would never answer to 'Princess' again.

The man watched her waiting for her answer to his question but, not wanting to have another chunk of flesh ripped from her body, Emily chose to bite her tongue. He appeared to find this response amusing.

He lowered himself into a chair that had been placed opposite her. Prentiss hadn't noticed it until then.

The pair sat opposite each other, staring, not moving, in total silence for minutes on end. Prentiss noticed that her eyes were growing tired but she was not going to be the first to blink. That would give him the power. It was as if she was playing the ultimate game of chicken. Her head was pounding loudly in her ears and a dull throbbing had taken up residence just behind her right eye, making it that much harder for her to focus on the task at hand.

He too was growing uncomfortable, not that he would ever let on about that. He decided to take charge of the situation. Slyly, he reached around behind him with his left hand, feeling for the strap of the camera that hung, ready for use, on the back of his chair.

Grasping it in his hand, he fiddled a bit, securing the device in his hand.

Before she was even able to register the movement, he had pulled the camera up, levelled it with her form and snapped a fair amount of photos. The bright flash assaulted her eyes, causing her to recoil, sinking deeper into her chair, turning her face away from him.

This action sent the man into fits of laughter, the violent movements of his body sending his chair rocking. His legs lifted in the air, his hand went over his mid-section and a true belly-laugh echoed loudly around the room.

Between gasps for air he was able to get a few strangled words out.

"That…was…golden!" was all he said before standing and moving around her, still sniggering.

Suddenly, he was there, leaning over her left shoulder, his arms resting on either side of her head, camera out in front. His stale breath tickled at her neck as he said in an almost mocking tone, "why don't we take a little look-see?"

Vile once again crept up her throat. Forcing it back down, Prentiss focused on the small screen in from of her, pushing all of her pain to the back of her mind.

But there was no need for this. The pain, the pounding, blinding, throbbing pain that felled her was forgotten as she saw the photos being displayed in front of her.

They were of her. Of her team. Of their families. Of their friends, their co-workers. The final few were haunting. They were of her, passed out, taken only minutes before she regained consciousness. As she saw an image of her current state her breath hitched. She was covered in dirt. And blood. So much blood. On her collar, dripping down her shirt. On her torso, still exposed, was littered in scrapes and bruises of all shapes and sizes. Her right shoulder was completely covered in blood which trickled to her elbow. From there, her knife wound took over, covering the rest of her arm in the red liquid. Her pallor was paler than usual, which was a feat in itself.

Noticing the lack of air being taken in by his prisoner the man moved, clapped her on the back and walked out in front of her.

"Be right back my dear."

Speechless, Prentiss didn't even notice the man leave the room and return with a laptop, nor did she notice the camera and tripod bought into the small room by one of his men.

However, what did catch her attention, was when the two thugs that bought her in came into the room.

…

When he left the room the man's anger boiled to the surface. He had hidden it well considering the sheer amount of rage that was coursing through his veins.

Turning to his right, he punched the concrete wall, hard. Of course that wasn't the brightest of ideas as the pain it caused was immense, but he didn't care. He just needed to get rid of the emotions. He just needed to make things right.

That's what he will do. He will make things right.

…

She shook herself out of her catatonic state, focusing closely on the every movement of the men. The two men did not look half as threatening as they had only an hour ago. Not in comparison to their boss. The larger man, following the directions of the man in charge, dragged the chair that she was secured to the back of the room, the old legs of the chair barely able to cope with the juts in the floor as both her weight, and the growing momentum pushed down on them. She tried not to make a sound as this was happening, managing to hold back all but a few whimpers as the reverberations from her movement made their way to her head.

The second chair was cast aside, the tripod taking its place. The camera was aimed tightly on her face and the men took stance on either side of it, making their frames just visible to the lens. Once all set up the man moved behind the camera, pressed the record button and smirked.

Confused as to his intentions, Prentiss watched on with intrigue, getting ready for a verbal sparring match. She figured that this video was either for his pleasure or for her team's, if not both. Whatever the case, the agent steeled herself, forcing thoughts about her injuries and appearance to the back of her mind, choosing instead to focus on the movements of the men in front of her.

"Agent," the man's harsh voice cut the silence. "Do you recognise these men?"

Not knowing what else to do, Prentiss answered. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I do," Prentiss responded again, unsure of what was expected of her. The man that stood in front of her was not the same man that had only moments ago. The taunting, jeering freak had turned into a true authoritarian, demanding respect and attention. She wasn't really sure how to react.

"NO!" His voice roared with a power that she had not know he possessed. She could not help but jump slightly, glad that she was not the only one. The two 'henchmen' also recoiled at the sudden outburst, only serving to confirm her suspicion that they too had no clue as to the man's intentions.

"When you answer me," he continued, "you address me as Sir! Is that clear?"

Seeing just how serious he was on this matter, Prentiss decided it best not to push her luck.

"Yes, Sir," she replied.

Satisfied with this response he continued. "So you know these men. Now, tell me, were they the ones who bought you here?"

"Yes, Sir," came the reply.

"And exactly which one of them did that to your arm?" As he asked this, his grimy right index finger pointed toward the deep laceration on her right arm. She glanced toward the smaller of the two men, revelling slightly in the fear he seemed to be feeling, watching him recoil slightly.

"Ah, so it was this one," the man surmised, taking note of the fleeting eye contact that had happened between the woman and the man to his left.

His hand, which had been clasped behind his back for the duration of the strange conversation, came forward. There was no time for a warning before the revolver clasped in his hand went off, sending a bullet straight into the back of the small man's head.

Prentiss screamed, blood spraying her tethered form. The partner's hands went to his ears, his body to the floor.

Silence filled the room, no-one daring to move; no-one daring to speak; no-one really believing what had just happened.

"I don't take kindly to damaged merchandise," the man said before stowing the weapon in his belt and stepping forward.

The last image that the camera captured was Prentiss' face; eyes open wide in shock, mouth gaping in disbelief, body trembling in fear.

**A/N: This one was for Linda! She was an amazing person who supported me more then she knows. Forever in my heart, always on my mind. May she R.I.P.**


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